Every day I come awake in the tilled
world she successfully imagined
leaving while her little son
made macaroni necklaces
at day camp her mind slanted
away the father had not
spoken when she mailed a copy
of the sonogram little blackpearl
knew the depths her lists
the lilies end of July still wearing
the newsboy cap carrying a patchwork
purse the lab notebook
she always wrote in meat rice
melon filling his sweet belly
salmon cherries
she had taken the vitamins averted
her eyes near knives knocked
on doors trying to borrow a Bible
she took him with her cannot
let my own mind rest
the little body she had so lovingly
bathed and cared for carried
I would see her just once again
walking through the palace
of an ordinary grocery store
hurrying toward me waving
bringing him by the hand